Yesterday I drove past Ramsey Park at 5pm on my way home from work. It was a hot May day. A student was sitting at the top of the bleachers studying. Nearby two people were talking. Over on the basketball court a little game was in progress. And, as almost always, toddlers toddled over the playscape.
I realized that I have never gone by Ramsey Park in daylight, on foot, bike, or car, when it was empty. Always people in a mix of ages and abilities and activities, and usually dogs, are enjoying the park. In summer our pool is without question our town square. We stand in the water, talking and catching up. We watch the neighborhood children grow up there. They start in water wings and eventually are suntanning with their teanage friends.
Ramsey Park is the heart of our neighborhood, and I suspect it's at the heart of our nicely climbing property values. It lifts our quality of life in uncountable ways.
Besides the park, I have always loved the history of this neighborhood. Mine is only the third family to live in our house, which was built in the 1940s. I like to look at the rock work on my house and think about the mason who made it. I am grateful to him. Mattie Toungate lived next door to us for years, God rest her soul, and she told us that the tangle of lagustrum and nandina in our side yard was once a mom-and-pop nursery. She told us that our house was built on its double lot to save the century-old live oak we now enjoy.
Mattie had grown up in her house here in Rosedale. When she left it, she moved to a nursing home. Across the street from me for years was a woman who had also grown up in her house. She was married and had two kids. She had never lived in any other home.
Where else can you feel this kid of legacy? Maybe lots of other places, but I just can't help feeling that those places don't have the same Austin stone house construction, leafy lanes, hollering little boys, and eighth-graders walking down the street in a big, noisy clump (I jokingly refer to this group as our urban street gang).
There is just something about Rosedale. Long may it thrive.